Not Even Tuesday
by Sally Mn
Summary: Written for the Friendship Ficathon on LJ, the prompt being "Cam and Jack. Herding cats," the result being Just Another Day at the SGC.


**Not Even Tuesday **

Asgard beaming technology did come in handy at times, everyone agreed on that. One of those times was _definitely_ when you had to get into your own damn top secret base on lockdown.

The white light faded and a completely pissed off General Jack O'Neill stared at the hapless Colonel who was apparently running the entire Mountain at the minute: 'running the Mountain' apparently being some sort of shorthand for sending frantic, cryptic and damn-unbelievable-even-for-the-SGC phone calls for help.

"Soooooo..." He stretched the word out into a question, and a cranky one too. One of the few perks of _being_ a General, for Chrissake, was that he could be cranky whenever he wanted to, at whoever he wanted to.

And right now, he wanted to.

_Soooooo..._ was O'Neill-speak for "what the hell is going on, what the hell have you done with my people and what the hell do you mean the Mountain's on lockdown?!" Any of the folk who had been under his command would have gotten _that_ at once.

Colonel Mitchell gulped, straightened and saluted, the perfect parade-ground salute of the man who knew how deep the trouble he was in was. "Sir. You have no idea how glad we are you're here, sir."

Jack frowned. Mitchell hadn't been under his command, fair enough, but he still should have been able to decipher O'Neill-speak after hanging round Carter and Daniel this long, and 'glad' was _not_ the reaction he was looking for. "Your messages all said it was an emergency, Mitchell. It was damn lucky I was heading this way anyway -" to see if he could steal a couple of people from Landry for a fishing trip, but mentioning that would spoil the aggrieved effect, so he didn't, "- but it had better be one, and where's Daniel?"

Mitchell's eyes flickered around, something suddenly, suspiciously shifty in their pale depths. "Uhh... I think he's in his office, sir. With Colonel Carter. And," he paused, "Doctor Lee, six of their geek squad, Doctor Lam, three admin staff, Sergeant Siler, two Marines and..."

Not good enough. The least his two scientists (and yes, they might be Mitchell's scientists now but they were still and would always be _his_ first) could do was leave whatever doohickeys they were engrossed with for long enough to come and... just a minute. "Doctor Lam? Why?"

"We - that is, I and the Marines - thought they'd be best all locked in while we -"

"Locked in?" Two was being ominously added to two, add another three-and-a-half for the fact that apart from Mitchell there was absolutely no one in sight and it was adding up to a crapload of _something_. "Where's Landry?"

"Uhhh... locked in the mess, with SG-3, SG-4, SG-6, SG-9, SG-10, SG-11, at least I think SG-11 is..."

"I get the picture."

"We've got personnel locked in half a dozen places, wherever we could, sir. Follow me, please." Mitchell wheeled and headed down the corridor, skirting what to Jack looked like a pile of... empty BDUs. And another, and another, and a white lab coat...

"My apologies for the mess, we really haven't had time to clean up." Mitchell was heading straight towards Daniel's office, which Jack knew - too well and too often - tended to be Crap Central. "Please tell me you were able to get the supplies we asked for, sir. We're still trying to herd everyone into the mess, and it's proving harder than I - we - thought it would be." His lips twisted. "They keep getting away into the vents."

"They -" Okay, that was passing cryptic and heading into the downright incomprehensible, and Jack had learned the hard way to _hate_ incomprehensible. He'd also learned that when things _were_ incomprehensible usually meant one of two things...

"What did he do?"

Mitchell blinked. "With respect, General, I really can't blame Jackson. Much as I'd like to."

"Okay then, what did _she_ do?"

"Can't blame Colonel Carter either, they honestly didn't know." Mitchell swallowed hard. "Sir, I should state right now for the record that I take full responsibility for this situation. I'm the team leader and -"

"Mitchell, before you fall on your sword, can you at least tell me what the hell the sword is for? What the hell is going on, why are you in charge and sending everyone to the mess when it's not even Tuesday, and what the _hell have Daniel and Carter done_?"

Mitchell paused in front of Daniel's office, swallowed even harder, and knocked. "Sergeant?"

"No change sir." Siler's muffled voice was as bland as ever, which was reassuring.

"Keep them away from the door."

Or not.

"I'll try, sir."

"Try harder," Mitchell snapped, then sagged a little. "Sorry, but... hang on to as many as you can, okay?"

"Hanging on, sir. Reed, the door."

The door slid open just a fraction, just enough for a beefy Marine corporal to block...

That was, to _fail_ to block a small shaggy bundle of fur that leapt over his foot and shot towards them. Mitchell tried to grab it, but it twisted easily away from him, bounded up to Jack and - with a tiny, mewing sound that managed to sound both delighted, pissed and "it-wasn't-my-fault!" all at once - clawed a rapid, _painful_ way straight up his leg and body and onto his shoulder.

"Dammit -!" Mitchell had managed to grab the second one - tiny and black and squealing - and was nursing scratches for his pains. "Cut that out!" With a triumphant cry, his creature swiped claws at him again; he dropped it, and Jack watched it scurry away, feathery tail held high.

"Sorry, sir." Mitchell scowled after it. "That's the fifth time she's escaped, she usually comes back... with one of someone else's personal items, I think there must be packrat in her cat DNA. Sir, I really couldn't _think_ how to explain it to the Pentagon on the phone but - well, you can see -"

His voice trailed off, and he gave an apologetic shrug. "You remember, General, when I took on SG-1, you _did_ give me that talk about how it was like herding cats. Gotta say - before today? - I didn't think you meant it _literally_."

Jack carefully unhooked the claws from the small creature on his shoulder, held it out at arm's length, and looked it over. Small pointed face - check. Pale silky fur with darker, sand-colored markings like spots - check. Wings, sparsely furred and stretched over thin bones like a bat - well, that was different. Long, long, damned long claws - that wasn't good.

Then he stared into huge blue cat-eyes that stared back in an intense way he knew better than anyone else on the planet.

He was surprised by how _unsurprised_ he was.

"That's Daniel."

**~oOo~**

"So yeah, it seemed to be perfectly _safe_, sir. At least Jackson said so, and Sa- Colonel Carter said so, and Doc Lee."

They'd managed to get into the room without any more of the creatures escaping into the hall; Mitchell hadn't sent someone after the little black one, which had apparently been Daniel's new alien girlfriend. "Honestly, General, we corral two and three get away. Until we find some way to turn 'em all back, there's no point, and they can't get out of the mountain on lockdown. Of course," he hedged, "we can't get most of the Marines out of the vents, and after Siler ended up shredded for a fifth time, we decided they could stay there until you arrived."

Jack was only half-listening. His attention was more on the cat-things - not cats, _not_ quite cats, though definitely, to Jack's mind, something along the lines of a cross between an Ewok, a Jabberwock and yeah, a cat. They had small Siamese heads with huge eyes, those long, batlike wings, baby-soft bodies covered in fur and long, clawed paws - and they had teeth, a lot more and sharper teeth than any ordinary feline. They were, he had to admit, bizarrely lovely.

Well some of them were. A couple of the geeks looked like an explosion in a plush toy factory, and from what Mitchell said, many of the Marines looked like feral barn cats crossed with wolves crossed with werebats.

Which, Jack couldn't help thinking and would have _said_ before he was a General, sounded rather cool. But that wasn't the point. He'd left his base and his people in Hank Landry's hands and _this_ was the result?!

"General Landry?"

"Don't tell him I said so, but he looks more like a beaver, sir." Mitchell stopped to think. "At least a beaver if it was part demented lion and had wings."

"And it's all because of..." Jack turned to the object sitting in pride of places on a pile of Daniel's books, which to his trained eye looked like a cookie jar. Not that he'd seen too many cookie jars covered in Goa'uld, tacky not-Egyptian picto-thingies and gold, nor many with that many breasts, that wide hips... and the head that put him in mind of The Catwoman. "This."

"Jackson and Teal'c were calling it a _hara-katel kosh,_" Mitchell offered.

Jack cocked an eyebrow.

"Whiiiiich I gather, sir, is Goa'uld for 'doohickey'."

Well, that was useful.

He then looked across at the small, pale creature with blonde-gold highlights and eyes nearly as blue as 'Daniel' that Mitchell said was 'Carter', (the apostrophes were all in Jack's head, he couldn't help it). She was pacing up and down the computer keyboard, batting at the keys in feline frustration and causing no end of incoherent electronic grief to whatever was on the screen, while shooting evil glances at 'Daniel', the small bouncy brown ball of fuzz that was - Mitchell thought - 'Doctor Lee', the other alien cat-things which were her fellow geeks, and at the Marines who seemed to have escaped the catifying... whatever (and Jack had yet to find out how Mitchell, and they, had done that) and were guarding them.

'Carter' was really going to be even less help than 'Daniel'. Great.

"Bastet," Mitchell said.

"What?"

"Bastet. The Goa'uld Bastet. That's what Jackson thought, anyway. He met her, didn't he? At that Goa'uld summit. I read the mission report."

Jack lifted his head and stared at the man he'd given his team to. "Why?"

"It was riveting, sir."

"Yes it was and yes he did, but he can't tell us much right now, can he? And if it _is_ Bastet, she's dead. I tend to remember good things like snakes being dead."

"Yes sir. This was found in some deserted ruins on P7K-X6Y by SG-4, presumably left behind when she abandoned the place. SG-4 brought a whole mess of stuff back, Jackson's been working through it in his spare time." Mitchell looked as skeptical as he did about the idea of Daniel _having_ spare time. "From the mission report," he went on, managing to sound wounded, "there wasn't _anything _to indicate that it turned people into... well, cats."

"Of course there wasn't. Why would there be?" He turned to 'Daniel', who was now sitting on papers filled with the chicken scratchings _Daniel_ called handwriting and batting at his hand with one long, clawed - but oddly gentle - paw. "This anything to do with it? _'Nemek areet'..._ means 'don't touch'."

Mitchell brightened. "You can read it, sir? We were hoping the answer was in his notes."

"Goa'uld, no: Daniel, sometimes." He had learned to read the scratchings with the ease of long, painful practice, in sheer self-defense. Mitchell would get there too, some day. "And that's what Daniel wrote." He turned back to the not-cookie jar. "'Don't touch'. So exactly what _did_ Daniel touch?"

'Daniel' gave a definite feline scowl and a warning swipe at Jack's wrist.

"He didn't," Mitchell said, looking shifty again. "I think, I mean, it was probably -"

"Mitchell?"

"We - that is, what Siler and I -" Siler looked across with his patented 'nothing to see here, pass on by, not involved' look, "- fine, what _I_ think happened was that while Jackson was translating the writing, I may have - might have - accidentally touched some trigger on it and set off its power to..."

"Catify people," Jack supplied.

"Seems impossible, I know."

"Impossible is an SGC specialty, Mitchell, I'm sure I explained this to you at one stage."

That got half a grin out of the Colonel. "Have to admit, sir, I may have underestimated the SG-1 definition of 'impossible'... I guess since I was the one to trigger it, I was the only one who stayed _me_, in a radius of..." he waved a helpless hand, "most of the Mountain."

"Peachy."

"My thoughts exactly, sir. Siler and some of the guards," they both glanced at Siler, who simply gave them that look again, "about two dozen of them, seem to have been be far enough away not to be done over. We've spent most of their time since then trying to, like I said, corral the beasties."

They both watched as 'Carter', with an almost _Carter _huff of annoyance, gave up stalking and sat down - in the middle of the keyboard. The string of electronic obscenities that that caused might have been less funny but for the glare 'Daniel' gave her.

"So where - and what - is Teal'c?"

Mitchell flinched. "Not sure _what_ sir, but whatever it is is big, black, got more teeth and claws that the whole of Jurassic Park and none of us are game to go near it. Last thing I know, he was heading for his quarters and no one - man, woman or cat-thing - was getting in his way."

"And Landry is in..."

"The mess, that's where a lot of them are. That's why I requested those supplies." Mitchell looked at him hopefully. "You did get my request for supplies, sir?"

"I did. I just didn't believe it." Jack sighed. "Relax, Colonel, they're on the _Daedalus_, ready to be sent down wherever you want them."

"Thank you, sir." Mitchell watched as Jack hooked Daniel's chair with one leg, absently petting 'Daniel' as he did so, and flicked through the papers.

"Crap, do you have any idea how many pages he's written on this thing?"

"Artifact," Mitchell mumbled.

Jack narrowed his eyes - obviously, his geeks were training their team leader fast.

'Daniel' swiped at his hand again, then shoved it with his paw towards the paper.

"And yes, sir, I have seen all too many of Jackson's papers, I know exactly how much he can write on one thi- artifact."

_Very_ fast.

'Daniel' shoved harder.

"So I'm really _really_ glad you can read all of it, sir. While I and these men go and herd more personnel." Mitchell saluted. "Sir."

Way _too_ fast.

'Daniel' pushed one more time, with a touch of his claws this time. Jack sighed, wondering why he ever thought he missed this nonsense in Washington, and waved a hand in dismissal.

On Mitchell's nod, one of the Marines opened the door. Three geek cat-things suddenly jumped up, shot past him before anyone could stop them, and out... past a small black bright-eyed creature gleefully waving her paws, her tail _and_ what looked appallingly like pink lace lingerie.

'Daniel' hissed something unquestionably rude under his breath.

Jack sighed again.

**~oOo~**

"Thankfully for the Base, the Program, the entire world and not incidentally your career, Colonel... it should wear off soon."

Several hours later, Jack leaned back, rubbing his eyes and wishing for a nice dull - and typed - Pentagon paper or ten. 'Daniel' looked as approving as was possible for a not-cat, and curled up possessively on top of the papers. "So the crisis is officially downgraded to... just another day at the SGC."

"Sir?"

Mitchell perked up, like a puppy finagling its way out of trouble. He'd come back from hunting personnel through the corridors, vents and hideaways several hours later, finding the head of Homeworld Security still working his way though Daniel's sub-hieroglyphic scrawl, with five small geeky cat-things ranged in a circle around the papers and watching him solemnly.

"Any idea _how_ soon? Sir?"

"Anytime from now till..."

'Carter', who had spent the last hour stalking either the computer keyboard or the hapless Marines, suddenly jumped up with a yowl and headed straight for the door, evading Corporal Morton's foot with ease but _not_ Siler's lightning fast grab. Siler gave the slightest of flinches as claws dug in yet again, wiped the fresh scratches against the drying bloodstains stains on his BDUs and handed her to Mitchell with a total lack of emotion. 'Carter' glared at them both, then at the General for good measure, then hopped onto Mitchell's shoulder and turned her back on them.

Jack was rather impressed by her unprecedented display of temper - he'd known _Daniel_ had it in him, but being feline clearly did things to a Lieutenant Colonel's mood.

"Siler got her out from under the Stargate platform with blue jello mixed with chicken, sir," Mitchell said apologetically, "and I have this feeling she hasn't forgiven him."

"And won't if she still likes the taste when she's Carter again." Jack cocked an eyebrow at the hapless but ever stone-faced Sergeant. "So the supplies are...?"

"For the Marines, sir. Mostly. Well, pretty much anyone we can tempt with it."

"You do realize that _when_ it wears off -"

Mitchell tried not to wince. "Yes sir, I do sir, and you have no idea how much I would appreciate you helping me herd people into... somewhere suitably private for when they revert to their own stark naked selves. If General Landry is in the mess when it happens..."

The General, the Colonel and the Sergeant all had the same mental picture, and shuddered.

"To be honest, I can handle a naked Jackson and naked geeks, and even Sam - Colonel Carter, I mean - though maybe not Sam _and_ Vala -" they looked at the little black creature. who paused in her unnervingly bird-like preening and beamed at them both, "- not and live through it anyway. And I really don't think my career _or_ Siler's can survive stuffing a two-star general in one of the science lab's carry cages to get him out of there and into his office with his clothes. Begging your pardon, sir, but don't you think that's your job?"

Mitchell did his best to look innocent - something for which he seemed to have also been in training from Daniel. Siler, of course, looked with all his might like he wasn't even there.

Jack sighed. This was going to be a long 'anytime from now till', he could feel it.

"On the bright side, sir, we found Teal'c."

"Well, _good_ for you. Where?"

"The gym." Mitchell paused. "We now don't have any exercise equipment left standing."

Jack blinked. "How big did you say he was?"

Mitchell and Siler and the Marines exchanged looks. "Think rhino-sized, sir, with claws and teeth and wings and fur... and, hate to say it, but a _cute_ cat face."

Jack blinked again.

"And he will only go where we want him to for pie. Lots of pie, mixed with lots of meat. We now don't have any pie left in the Mountain."

Now _that_ hurt. "You could have warned me, I'd have brought some with the supplies, instead of... you _sure_ they'll work?"

"Two thousand should be enough to get all the Marines out of the vents and cupboards. They do seem to like them best. Siler is going to pipe the smell through the aircon and see if we can draw them all to the mess before -"

"They turn human, I know. And you really think this'll get them going where you want them?"

"Seems to, sir, pretty much all of the Marines liked it. And the scientists. and enough of the admin staff." Mitchell grimaced. "Don't understand it myself, but they all like it best. Well, except for Sam and her jello and chicken. And Vala, who would go for anything she thought was being given to someone else. And a couple of Jackson's academics, but they'll follow anyone for chocolate."

"And 'Daniel'?"

General and Colonel looked at each other and spoke one word, together. "Coffee."

"Soooooo..." Mitchell's version was different, disconcertingly close to that Jack had perfected in _his_ time as team leader. A good sign, Jack thought, despite this mess.

Now if Mitchell would learn not to touch _hara-katel kosh_s, he'd be fine. And that wouldn't take too long, Jack thought, it had taken _him_ a few years, four, five, maybe seven tops...

Yeah, well the boy didn't need to know that.

Time to do General stuff and save the day, and the other General's dignity. Even if it killed his taste and/or smell buds in the bargain.

"Call the _Daedalus_, Mitchell, get them to beam the two thousand Tuna Surprise MREs - and some help, a _lot_ of help in distributing them - straight to the mess kitchen, then get Carter to her office with as much of the jello or chicken as you can find and lock her in for the minute. Doctor Lam and Daniel's little alien friend too , and anyone else you think will need privacy. A Mountain full of not-cats is one thing - a Mountain full of naked saviors of the world, I can't handle this early in the morning."

It was four in the afternoon, but Mitchell would know what he meant.

"I'll corral Landry, you... herd the rest."

"Yessir." Mitchell's salute this time was not _quite_ as parade-ground perfect, but Jack let it slide, since 'Carter' was still on his shoulder and boding fair to topple off any moment... and they would _never_ hear the end of it if she did. "Coming, Jackson?"

'Daniel' didn't move from his comfortable seat on his own papers and books - yeah, and wasn't _that_ just like him? - but gave that small delighted/pissed/pleading innocent mewl again, and looked up at Jack with those big blue eyes.

"Should've known. You know, General -? When you said that about herding cats, you were a little off the mark."

Jack raised his brows.

"Not the rest, the other teams, Siler and the good people who _really_ run the place, the Marines and hell, pretty much everyone. All just like cats, even before this."

He looked down at 'Daniel', at his subtle spotted markings and his big blue eyes and those claws and teeth.

"But SG-1? I'm trying to herding jaguars, sir. And half the time, as I know _all _too well, they're herding _me_."

Putting up a hand to steady his passenger, he wheeled, collected Siler and the Marines with his eyes and left... promptly followed by a stream of curious little creatures, all of them, of all shapes, sizes and furry colors. Little black 'Vala', the last to go, looked back at the General and damn well _purred_ before bounding off after the herd of 'cats', still firmly grasping the pink lace lingerie in teeth and claws.

And Jack just _know_ they were going to scatter as soon as they could. Mitchell was going to need all the help he could get before the catification wore off and everyone...

He relaxed, leaning back and crossing his legs. Hell, it would do the man good to handle it without a superior butting in and taking over. Give him a chance to show his mettle, or something like that. Jack would do _General_ stuff, like averting his fellow General's threatened loss of face... so something.

Oh yeah, and sending the _Daedalus_ for more pie.

'Daniel' huffed.

"He's right, you know."

'Daniel' huffed again.

"And when you're... _you_, I am never going to let you forget it. Come on," Jack stood, picked up his friend and tucked him under one arm. "Let's go save the day again. The things I do for you kittens..." He winced as the claws dug in again, "kids."

**-the end-**


End file.
